


The Mate Runner

by bicroft



Series: The Mate Runner [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: BAMF Stiles, Derek Hale is Bad at Feelings, M/M, Mates, Maze Runner AU, This all started as a typo, Werewolves are still a thing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-24
Updated: 2014-03-24
Packaged: 2018-01-16 22:04:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1363354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bicroft/pseuds/bicroft
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Maze Runner AU; in which Stiles is Thomas, Derek is the lead Glader (who is bad at feelings), the Oni haunt the maze at night, and nothing is as it seems.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Mate Runner

**Author's Note:**

> Title credit to Nie, because she made the typo. Special thanks to Kyra who stayed up late talking to me about this. <3

He began his new life slumped over with a pounding headache, surrounded by cold metal and stale, dusty air. 

The ground lurched downward, and his head slammed into the siding. He let out a hiss of pain, rubbing the spot as the world continued to sink. Out of all the ways to wake up, this had to be the lousiest. The elevator– yes, that's what this was– continues shaking and swaying, and the blinked as a thought surfaced. 

_Stiles._ he thought. _My name is Stiles._

He tried to recall more– a mother, a father, a pet– but, nothing came. Vague and general things surfaced: a car, blue and shining; a school bell, but no faces, no voices, no names, except his own. 

_Stiles. My name is Stiles. My name is Stiles and I'm alive._ If he had nothing else, at least he had a name and breath in his body. There was hope in a name, and hope in breathing. 

With a final shudder and a piteous groan, the elevator stopped, throwing Stiles back again. There was nothing but darkness around him in every direction, and a coil of fear settled in his chest, squeezing at the hope. This wasn't right; this didn't feel right in the least. He wanted out; _needed_ out before he lost his breath and his name and every last blur of a memory he had. 

"Someone help me!" he screeched, to who, he didn't know. But, there _had_ to be someone, just had to. He needed there to be. 

There was a loud clanging above him, and a straight line of light shone down from above him. Stiles sucked in a relieved breath as the light grew, and the sound of metal doors being slid open sounded. The brightness blinded him once the doors were fully open, and he shielded his eyes with his arm, turning away. 

He heard voices above, and the hope and the fear both raised their heads at the same time. 

"Look at that shank." "I wonder how old he is?" "He looks like klunk in a t-shirt." " _You're_ the klunk, shuck-face!"

"Hope you enjoyed your one-way trip, Greenie." one of the voices boomed. "There's no way back."

Confusion and curiosity joined the fear and hope; some of the voices were familiar, others entirely foreign. He pulled his arm away, giving his eyes a few moments to adjust, and saw face staring down at him, some pointing. They were all teenagers, he noted; none too much older than him. 

A rope with a loop at the end was lowered down, and Stiles hesitantly stepped into it, clinging to it as he was hauled up. As he got closer, hands grabbed for him, pulling him until he was tossed onto the ground, gasping to catch the breath that had been knocked out of him. _There goes one of the last things I've got._

He looked up, and saw a boy standing above him— older than most of the group, with black hair and some stubble already dusting his jaw. There was an odd look on his face; curiosity mixed with a slight fear and a bit of relief. 

"Nice to meet you, shank." the boy said, and Stiles knew he'd never forget the words he spoke next. "Welcome to the Glade."


End file.
